EARLY DECEMBER 26TH, 1998

"Don't Forget The Shovel."

That was all Buffy had said, as they met atop the snow-swallowed hill. The weather correction had not come quite as quickly as predicted, and that meant there was only one thing to do. Buffy stood with her shovel.

"Nobody backs out. This needs to be done."

Cordelia shook her head.

"What about the vamps?"

Xander answered his ex, and things were civil for then and there, anyway.

"They have a harder time getting around in this than most of us do. The dead slip and slide quickly."

Faith looked down, shaking her head.

"Its been a while. But I'm not backing out."

Oz was not quite his usual calm self.

"I could use the extra fur, right about now. That looks cold."

Willow seconded him, in her own inimitable way.

"Okay. Do I need to point out that snow is not an integral part of my minority-type Decemberish traditions?"

Angel and Giles looked at one another, tensions mainly but never wholly gone.

"Chicago, 1979."

"Uh-uh, Watcher. Jersey Shore, 1978. Way worse."

Joyce tried to walk away, but a group glare had her picking up the shovel again.

"Ex-hippies only do warm things. This is not a warm thing."

Buffy signaled the first motion.

"Dig! Now...turn them around...."

 She pointed and smiled.

"We Ride!"

And enemies that weren't friends, friends that knew the pain of friends, lovers that had yet to choose up, and friends that weren't yet enemies, rode their shovels down the hill of snow sent by powers unseen to thwart an evil that was not yet ready to strike, and would never know simple pleasures like this.